


Toy Works

by coricomile



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4182834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. He's a doll, not a <i>toy</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toy Works

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically the literary equivalent of candy floss. For the record.

The house is pink and blue. The tiny shutters on the windows are painted on, the doors permanently open. All of the furniture is purple, delicate chairs and tables and stiff mattresses. Tiny picture frames are glued to the walls, tinier pictures inside. The lamps don't work, but light shines in from above, where the roof should be.

Patrick has lived here for a very long time. It's lonely. The other dolls don't talk or move. They just stay where they're put and stare out blankly with their painted on eyes. Patrick tried talking to them, once. Tried touching a pretty Barbie's chest once, too. It was just plastic in the end, though, and he felt very ashamed after.

The toy maker, Joe, is a nice man, though. He leaves tiny plates of pumpkin candies and thimbles filled with bubbly soda. Patrick just wishes that Joe would make him a friend, too. Someone like him.

Customers come in sometimes. They peek in through the roof, prod at the furniture and coo at the dolls. Patrick hides when they come, tucks himself into corners and under the beds. No one looks for him, and that's okay. He doesn't want to leave, even if he is lonely.

Patrick is sleeping when Joe turns on the lights. It's very late at night. Patrick can tell by the chirps of the crickets that live under the floorboards. He pulls his little blanket over his head and snuggles back down onto his mattress.

There's a polite tap on the wall. Patrick reluctantly sits up and gropes for his hat. He pulls it on and climbs out onto the balcony Joe built onto the house last year. He's surprised to see another man with Joe and darts back inside.

"Patrick," Joe whispers. His voice is still loud, echoing in the house. "Will you come out?" Patrick peeks up through one of the windows.

The other man is looking curiously at the dollhouse, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. His face is open, friendly, and he's bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looks honest, though, and Joe seems to trust him. Slowly, Patrick climbs onto the balcony again.

Joe holds out his hand, touching the tips of his fingers to the plastic. Patrick crawls onto it, wrapping his arms and legs around Joe's thumb. He rests his chin on the top of it, closes his eyes when he starts to move. When he opens them again, he's in front of the other man's face.

"Patrick, this is Pete," Joe says. "He's a friend." Pete waves. Patrick unwraps himself and waves back. "He wants to take you home." Patrick shakes his head. He doesn't want to go.

"I'll take care of you," Pete says quietly. His voice is lower than Joe's, but just as friendly. "We can be friends." Pete holds his hand out. Patrick kicks his fingers. Joe laughs.

"He's feisty."

Patrick crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. He's a doll, not a _toy_. Pete grins. It's wide and toothy, but Patrick's tummy feels funny because of it. Frowning, he steps cautiously onto Pete's palm. He stands as high as Pete's middle finger.

"Hey, little dude," Pete whispers. Patrick's heartbeat speeds up. He waves again. "Joe says you're special." Patrick climbs up the folds of Pete's hoodie until he can stand on Pete's shoulder. He holds onto handfuls of soft, dark hair to keep his balance. Patrick looks to Joe, waiting for his nod.

Then, he sings. It's an old song, something Patrick's known since he was made. His voice is big for his little body, and he smiles into the words. He wants to stamp his feet, or jump, or move, but he's afraid of falling. When he's done, he slides down the curve of Pete's arm to sit in the crook of his elbow.

"You're amazing," Pete says breathily. Patrick beams up at him. He kicks his heels against Pete's arm and ducks his head. There's a blush spreading over his nose. He hopes Pete doesn't notice.

"You want to go with him?" Joe asks. He bends to bring his face to Patrick's level. Patrick shrugs. He'll miss Joe if he goes. "I'll visit. Promise."

Pete carefully lifts Patrick into the dollhouse. Joe drops a little sack in with him. Patrick collects his handmade clothes and folds them, packing them away tenderly. Joe and Pete are talking above him, their voices the background music to Patrick's humming. Patrick gathers his hats from around the house and straightens up. He doesn't want to leave a mess.

Patrick leaves through the front door for the last time. Joe smiles at him and sets a tiny wrapped box onto the table next to him. Patrick looks at it, waiting for Joe's nod before rushing to it. He rips the paper off and pops open the lid.

Inside is a tiny guitar. The body is not bigger than a silver dollar, the headstock the size of a child's fingernail. Patrick stares at it open-mouthed. He touches it with gentle hands, his little gasp stuck in his throat. He lifts his arms at Joe. Joe smiles and offers his hand. Patrick hugs his thumb, pressing his cheek to the side of it.

"I thought you might like it," Joe says. He looks sad. "Pete's a good guy. You'll be happy with him."

Pete smiles as Patrick grabs his bag and guitar. Patrick settles onto his palm and waves at Joe. He's ready for an adventure.


End file.
